


neuroplasticity

by procrastinationfairy



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: AU - Dick developed aphasia instead of becoming Ric Grayson, Aphasia, Brain Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Sibling Bonding, language disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 01:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinationfairy/pseuds/procrastinationfairy
Summary: Instead of losing his memory after being shot in the head, Dick develops aphasia.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Dick Grayson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 104





	neuroplasticity

**Author's Note:**

> Aphasia describes a wide presentation of symptoms, and the type Dick shows here is initially Broca’s aphasia (with some comprehension deficits), later somewhere between conduction and anomic aphasia. Aphasia rarely fits into these neat categories anyway, and I wanted to focus more on how interacting with someone with aphasia looked than trying to neatly describe Dick’s condition. I, also, obviously took liberties with what was going on in canon. Frankly, I was not in the mood to parse through everything and try to make it fit, so this is kind of a hot mess of canons. DickKory rights. Duke Thomas rights. Cass Cain rights. That’s all I know.

The shot cracks the skull and slides through the tissue. It cracks the other side like an eggshell, and the white spills out while the yolk lingers in the shell. (The yolk is already broken.)

* * *

Dick goes in and out for a while. He knows he was on the roof, and then he was somewhere else, white and seafoam walls over the rocking ship motion of the stretcher. Then he was somewhere else again—and then he was out. When he wakes up, mostly clear now, he’s at the manor. He expects this.

Alfred is in the room. “Master Richard, how wonderful to see your eyes open. Would you care for some water?”

Dick’s head pounds. He focuses on what he heard. “Wa—waffle,” he says.

Alfred furrows his brow. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “I can make waffles if you wish.”

_No._ Dick’s tongue is dry, stuck to the roof of his mouth. That must be the problem. “No, waffle. Want wa— No.” Dick raises his left hand and motions through drinking water.

“Ah. So that was a yes to the water,” Alfred says. “I’ll return in a moment.”

He does, and Dick takes the water in his left hand. He realizes now how heavy his right hand feels.

“Alfreg. Alfre— Alfred,” Dick repeats until he says it right. “Hand feel… Hand weak.”

Alfred looks at him sadly, which isn’t comforting at the moment. Dick wants to ask more, but his mouth won’t work the way he wants it to. He feels like he’s going to scream.

Dr. Thompkins explains the situation to him that afternoon. _Gunshot wound. Brain damage. Aphasia. Language impairment._ Babs sits at the bedside and asks questions no one else in the family would think to ask. _Type. Therapy. Improvement?_ Tim sits on her right and takes notes, Stephanie leaning against him. Bruce and Damian loom in the corner together, looking like particularly worried Rottweilers. Jason is in the _other_ corner, where Dick can just see him out of the corner of his eye. Duke stands with him, exchanging quiet words. Cass sits on the ledge of the window, watching. When she turns her gaze to Dick, she melts with empathy.

Dick hasn’t always trusted Cass, but they’ve known each other for a long time now. He always thought he _knew_ her. 

His face twists, trying to take in this overload of information. Cass nods. _I understand._

* * *

The feeling in his hand comes back. That has to be a good sign. If his hand comes back, so should everything else. It has to. It has to.

* * *

Dick attends sessions with a speech-language pathologist at the same facility where Cass receives her speech and language therapy. Bruce advocated for the same pathologist, but the one assigned to Dick is an expert in aphasia. That’s good. Dick wants to get better _fast._ He wants to return to being Nightwing.

“We can’t predict your progress,” Ms. Ford says. “The brain is very resistant, and you may see some spontaneous recovery in the next few months. But there’s also a chance you’ll need intervention for a while.”

Translation: No Nightwing. 

Dick kind of hates the sessions. They’re hard, and they’re not supposed to be. Dick _knows_ what he wants to say. He knows what Ms. Ford says. When he opens his mouth, he says, “Girlfriend name Kory. Mine. My girlfriend name Kory.”

“Very good,” Ms. Ford says. “You had all the information.”

“Not right,” Dick huffs.

“It’s very close. ‘My girlfriend’s name is Kory,’” Ms. Ford says carefully.

Dick repeats the words. _My girlfriend’s name is Kory._ He thinks, _My girlfriend’s name is Koriand’r. My girlfriend’s name is Starfire._ When he gets home that night, he tries again.

“My girlfriend name Kary-Ander,” he says. _"_ _Koriand’r._ Kory.”

It’s been two months since the injury, and he’s already counting down the days until his chances for recovery go to slim. He has to get better. He _has_ to.

* * *

Since the injury, Dick has been living at the manor. Kory offered to stay at his apartment in Bludhaven, but she had too many commitments with the Titans for Dick to accept. With the size of his family, there were plenty of people to take him to appointments and help him with anything that was suddenly difficult. Unfortunately, Dick had almost forgotten why he preferred the distance from his family.

Alfred guides him gently through his home activities for his therapies. Bruce sits with him quietly (not unusual), though Dick can hardly make the chatter he’s known for. They’re not the problem.

Tim pushes too hard. “Close,” he says. “You forgot _I’ll_ and _the._ It’s _I’ll have the Batburger Supreme._ Do it again.” When he says this, Dick almost wishes he had a Batburger to push in Tim’s face.

Jason gets frustrated halfway through their conversation. He doesn’t say so, but his face grows red, the same pouty expression Dick remembers on a thirteen-year-old. He is trying, but being around Dick upsets him.

The same goes for Damian, who looks devastated every time he enters the room, though he quickly schools his face into heartless-League-robot mode. “If you wish to bring Titus to your sessions, we can make a schedule,” he offers. “Animal-assisted therapy has evidence to suggest—” He stops when he realizes his words are too quick and complex for Dick now, face crumpling. Dick slings an arm around him instead.

Duke brings a few books once, “Something to do while you’re stuck at home,” he adds. He wants to talk about them, clearly, and he becomes quickly disappointed when Dick’s “talk” still sounds like a telegraph. He’s trying. He’s still so new to the family, unsure of his place. Dick wishes he could do the normal big-brother-mentor thing. Instead, he tries to read.

Stephanie stops by when she visits Tim or Cass, clearly very awkward but trying. She's so bright and warm, but she speaks too quickly.

Babs comes often, his solace in Gotham, his best-best friend. She’s good at simplifying her language like she’s always done for Cass. Her visits are awesome.

But talking with Cass is the easiest. When Dick misses a word or can’t find what he means, Cass already knows. Cass responds with neat simple language he can easily follow.

“I have a session tomorrow too,” Cass says when she looks at his latest “assignment.” “So long.”

Man, does Dick get that. He wonders how hard it had been for Cass to get where she is now. Her language is _good_ , most of the time. She always frowns when someone starts speaking too fast, or when the conversations grow cluttered with voices, but she gets by. She’s kind of amazing. She’d learned language from scratch. Dick can barely remember what he already knew how to do.

“Injury,” Cass interjects without Dick even needing a word on his thoughts. She points at his head and shoots him a look.

“I know,” Dick says slowly. “Takes… time.”

“You lost it. Now you’re learning again. It takes time,” Cass agrees.

* * *

One day, Dick finds that it’s easier to speak again. “I need to go walk,” he says. “I’m going stir-crazy.”

Duke and Tim, sitting by the island as they discuss their latest Serpents and Spells campaign, turn to look at him wide-eyed.

“Want to come?” Dick asks.

“Uh,” Tim says.

“Sure!” Duke says. “We should all go!”

“That’s a lot. All of us at once is…” Dick falters. He waves his finger in a circle around his ear.

“Crazy?” Tim guesses. It’s good, but no.

“Hectic? Frenetic?” Duke suggests, which are great synonyms, not what Dick wants.

“Wild,” Cass intervenes as she opens the fridge and grabs a few water bottles. “Four of us. Race to the gate.”

“I said walk, not race,” Dick says.

“I said race,” Cass replies with a shrug.

It’s been a while since Dick was allowed to move like that. Even if it’s just a race against his little siblings… well… he’s missed the opportunity to feel the wind on his face.

* * *

“We’re returning to San Francisco tonight,” Kory says. Her wild red coils flutter around her cheeks, the unnatural green of her eyes lost through holo-chat. Dick misses her. He wants to run his hands over her biceps, press his lips to the curve of her neck. Kory smiles knowingly. “I can come to Gotham tomorrow?”

“Please. I want to see you,” Dick agrees. “I might move back to Bludhaven soon.”

“That would be nice. Let me know if you need help,” Kory says. “I’m glad you’re doing so well. I can hardly tell anything happened now.”

Dick nods. “So they say.” There are still far too many times he can’t get the right word, and he can tell when he’s hit a bump and skipped over something. But it’s better. So much better.

* * *

By twelve months, Ms. Ford says, “You’ve made a lot of improvement, Dick. You may have heard the year mark means you won’t make any more progress. That’s not true. We can keep working on your word-finding problems.”

“Yes,” Dick agrees. He knows he may never be at full capacity again—which sucks, considering how much he’s known for his puns. But every day helps. He stops by the manor after his appointment, since he’s already in Gotham anyway. Cass is stretching in the living room, watching a nature documentary on the big screen.

“Hi,” Cass says. “Good day?”

“Good day,” Dick agrees. He ruffles her hair. “Ice cream?”

“Ice cream,” Cass repeats, her smile bright. Who needs words when you have a sister like that?


End file.
